


Sapphire and Emerald

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Castiel in a Dress, Castiel in a Skirt, Creature Dean, Dragon Dean, Fluff, M/M, Sacrifice Castiel, Virgin Castiel, kinda slutty castiel tbh, pampered castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: Castiel is sacrificed to a dragon, and finds him to be much different than expected.





	Sapphire and Emerald

Castiel seethes with anger, struggling against his bonds and feeling tears of frustration prickle at his eyes.

“You can't do this!” He shouts at the guards walking beside the wagon he's bound in.

“It's done, little witch!” Magistrate Adler crows gleefully. He needn’t even be here, he's just hoping to see Castiel get eaten.

“But I didn't do anything!” He tries. It's hopeless, has been from the start. This whole mess has been rigged and he doesn't deserve this! He doesn't!

“Someone gag him.” Says Adler, “We can't have him blathering all the way up the mountain.”

The guard who gags him has a guilty expression on his face, but he's doing this anyway so Castiel has no sympathy for him at all. He spits when the guard comes close and gets a strong backhand for his trouble. His head swims after the blow, and he can't find it in himself to struggle so much. Adler is right, it's done. There's nothing that can save him now.

He doesn't cry, he _wont_ cry, not in front of these horrible men. Maybe later, when they've left him for dragon food. For now he lies still, trying not to think about all the things he's never done, all the things he'll never get to do. 

It's quite a ways to the mountain, and eventually Adler gets bored and decides to head back, so at least Castiel doesn't have to hear his grating voice anymore, not that he's going to be hearing anything at all for much longer. 

It's dark by the time they reach the base of the mountain and the great stone alter. Castiel wants to beg, he wants to plead with his captors to let him go, he'll do anything, but he's still gagged. As they bind him to the great alter he breaks his promise to himself and starts to cry. He can't stand this, he can't. This can't be happening. 

But it is happening, the guards are lighting the signal beacon a few yards away from the alter and standing back. The light from the fire flickers over Castiel as they all wait, and he feels so incredibly exposed. It's almost impressive, he thinks, that he can feel so embarrassed at being the center of attention at this point. He's going to die at any time, and he's anxious about people  _looking_ at him. 

He can hear the guards muttering, unsure if they should leave him here and get back to town, or wait and make sure he gets taken by the dragon. He feels a sharp spike of hope; if they leave him, maybe he can escape somehow. Maybe he'll have a chance. 

To his dismay, they don't leave. They make themselves comfortable, sitting on the grass or in the now-empty cart, watching the sky. Castiel's heart sinks back into despair. Today is the day he dies. 

Mentally and physically exhausted, scared, hungry, and sunburnt, Castiel finally succumbs to sleep on the altar.

 

He wakes to the sound of massive wings. Wings that disrupt the air all around, picking up dirt and tossing small trees to and fro. When he opens his eyes, he sees the massive shape of the beast, little more than a shadow in the dark of night. It's faced away from him, toward the guards, and Castiel has the fleeting, silly hope that it will just eat them and be on it's way. 

“Oh, Great Dragon!” One guard is saying, “We offer you this sacrifice, that you might spare our village from famine!” He gestures toward the altar, toward Castiel. 

The dragon turns, it's massive face silhouetted against the light of the beacon fire. One great, green eye looks at him, and fear turns him to stone. He couldn't move if he wanted, pinned beneath the dragon's stare. 

Then, just as quickly, it's turning back to the guards. It opens its maw lets out the loudest roar Castiel has ever heard in his life. It scatters the guards, sending them screaming into the night. The sound rattles his head and his eardrums, he wishes he could clap his hands to his ears, but of course he can't.

Then, very suddenly, there's no one left. It's only him and the dragon. It turns back to him, and starts stalking toward the alter. 

There's no way for Castiel to describe the fear he feels now, the complete and utter terror, banishing all thought from his mind. He feels like he's going to throw up, he's shaking madly, his thighs are warm where he's wet himself. Nothing has ever mattered.

A great foot lifts itself from the ground, claw extended. It's going to pierce him, going to smash him into a pulp. The claws are as sharp as knives.

Instead, it cuts his bonds. His feet and hands are suddenly free, and he has half a moment of confused joy before the beast's open mouth descends on him.

 

Every time Castiel thinks he can't get any more scared, something new happens. He gets arrested for no reason, tied up, driven up a mountain, tied to an altar, frightened almost to death by a dragon, and now he's riding in its mouth. 

He's not sure why he's in its mouth, as it isn't currently eating him. If he were to guess, he might say that it's taking him back to its lair, but why it hasn't already gobbled him up he doesn't know. He's incredibly aware of each point a tooth touches his body, of it's volcanic breath on his skin. They're climbing higher and higher, flying up the mountain at a speed Castiel didn't even know existed. He's unsure what to focus on, the terrible height or the terrible teeth. If hadn't already emptied his bladder he'd definitely be doing it now. 

At long last, they reach the mountain's mid-point, and the beast begins to circle toward an outcropping. When they get close enough, Castiel can see a large cave opening, big enough for the dragon to enter through if it's wings are pressed close to its body. It does so, but at a flying speed. Castiel would scream if he weren't still gagged.

They land with a boom that shakes Castiel to his core, and then very suddenly he's tumbling out of the dragon's open mouth onto the floor. He lands on his knees and pain shoot through them, but he focuses on wrenching the gag out of his mouth and emptying his stomach on the floor. 

He pukes and pukes until there's nothing left but stomach bile, but everything hurts and he doesn't want to look up, he can't look up. He curls in on himself, arms over his stomach on the dirt floor. He doesn't know what he's trying to accomplish, but he knows he can't handle anything else. He hopes the dragon eats him quickly. 

In fact, the dragon leaves him be. It lets him lay there on the floor for a long time, just watching. When he finally does look up, it's staring down at him. 

“What?” He says, voice scratchy from vomiting, “What are you waiting for?”

The dragon begins to shimmer. 

Castiel blinks, sure his eyes are betraying him. He's finally gone mad, hasn't he? 

The dragon continues to shimmer, growing smaller, changing shape, until it's something entirely different. A man. Or, in fact, a young man. Around Castiel's age, perhaps, it's hard to tell in the dim light of the cave, but he look around twenty. 

The dragon draws nearer, but Castiel can't take his eyes off of the spot it had been. How did it change? That must be very old, very powerful magic.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Says the dragon in a young, clear voice, “I swear. I swear on my hoard.”

Castiel blinks and, finally, turns his attention to the dragon. Immediately, he thinks he might throw up again. 

Objectively, he's very handsome. He's tall, with blond hair brushed back and emerald green eyes. He's completely naked, with dark blue scales in patches on his knees and shins, elbows, stomach, and shoulders. His nails are long and sharp, and Castiel can see a long, forked tongue in his mouth. 

He drops to his knees next to Castiel, and the boy recoils, unsure about what's to happen next and not wanting anything to do with any of it. 

The dragon holds his hands up in front of him, “I won't hurt you.” He says again.

“Why- why am I here then?” Castiel manages, voice small. 

The dragon blinks at him, “They said you were mine.” He speaks of the guards from town, “You're... for my hoard, yes?”

“No.” Says Castiel, “You- you were supposed to eat me.”

The dragon rears back. He looks, if anything, offended. “Why?”

Castiel shakes his head, his grasp on reality growing ever tenuous. “They think it will help their harvest.”

The dragon just looks at him, and after a while Castiel gives up and asks, “What will you do with me?”

“I will...” The dragon thinks, “I will... take care of you.” He nods, satisfied, “You're injured.”

“I'm... what?”

The dragon reaches out to touch his bottom lip, which stings at the contact. Castiel hisses, remembering suddenly the backhand he'd received from the guard. His lip is split, and he'd guess by the pain in his cheek that he has a pretty good bruise there. 

“Come,” Says the dragon, standing up. 

Castiel moves to stand, but the pain in his knees has him stumbling. To his surprise, the dragon's steadying hand saves him. Without warning, the dragon scoops him up to carry him bridal style though the darkness of the cave as if he weighs no more than a bag of flour. 

Castiel shrieks, but he holds on tight, unwilling to find himself lost here. Who knows how far these caves go?

He gets his answer rather quickly, actually, as the dragon sets him down for a moment to press a hand to the wall, and a door materializes.

“What...” Castiel breathes.

The dragon grins and scoops him up again, dipping quickly through the archway. 

The mountain is hollow. At least, a good majority of the mountain is hollow, because they're currently standing in an enormous cavern, lit by a combination of various oil lamps and some sort of glowing moss. The cavern is not empty, though, not in the least. Everywhere he looks, Castiel sees cupboards and tables, piles of gold coins, wardrobes, quilts, statues, crates and barrels, jewels and furs. This, Castiel realizes, is the dragon's hoard. Pathways run through it all, dividing piles into neat sections that don't make much sense at all to Castiel, but seem to have some sort of order. 

It's amazing, completely unexpected, awe-inspiring. Castiel can only stare as he's carried easily past piles of gems and chairs and chandeliers.

“My god.” 

The dragon grins down at him. “My hoard.” He says proudly, “Biggest in the country.”

“I'll bet.” Castiel says absently. 

Eventually, they come to a small underground stream, easily spannable. It runs into a clear blue pond near one of the cavern’s walls, which in turn filers out through a hole in the rock. They stop beside the pond, and the dragon lets Castiel down gently on the soft, moss covered rock bank. He dips his hand into the water and then brings it back up, wet, to wipe the blood and tears from Castiel's face. He studies Castiel while he does it, and grins again. 

“Your eyes are sapphires.” He says happily, “Such a pretty gem for my hoard. What's your name, little gem?”

“Um. Castiel.” He says, “But I- I can't _stay_.”

“Where would you go?” The dragon wonders, “Back to the village? They were going to let you get eaten.”

“True.” Castiel agrees, anger at the betrayal curling in his gut. 

“I would never let you get eaten.” The dragon says, very seriously, “ _I_ take good care of my hoard.”

Castiel looks around, and he agrees. It may be a little cluttered, but everything seems to be well-maintained. No dust to be seen. No bugs or rodents. 

He says as much, and the dragon beams, coming to sit next to Castiel on the moss. 

“ _You_ appreciate my hoard,” He says, “Lovely gem.” 

“What's your name?” Castiel asks, mostly to stop the dragon from calling him things like _lovely_. The words stir odd feelings in Castiel's gut, and after the day he's had, he doesn't need any more feelings at all. 

The dragon opens his mouth and emits a terribly long series of clicks and hisses, the likes of which Castiel could never begin to hope to mimic. At the end of it he blinks, and says slyly, “But you can call me Dean.”

“Dean?”

“Dean!” Says Dean. 

“And,” Castiel asks his next question warily, nerves making his hands tremble, “If I wanted, could I leave?”

Dean frowns, but he thinks for a long moment, and then he nods. He doesn't look happy about it, but he agrees, “If you want. But you could stay. Have a bath? Those nasty humans dirtied you all up. We'll get you shiny again, yes?”

Castiel looks down at himself. He is, in fact, filthy. Not only is he covered in dirt, his shirt is torn and his pants are still damp with urine. 

“A bath... does sound good.” He says. He's still wary, how can he not be? But after everything that's happened today, can it really get any worse?

Dean gestures at the pool beside them, and Castiel realizes suddenly that  _this_ is where he's supposed to bathe. 

“Er, you don't have a bath hidden around here someplace, do you?” He wonders.

Dean laughs, shaking his head, “But you'll like it,” He says, dipping his hand in, “It's warm, see? And I have human bath things. I'll get them!” He leaps to his feet and dashes off into the maze of treasure.

Castiel, finally alone for the first time in days, takes a breath. How in the hell did things turn out this way?

He shakes his head and, while he has the chance, begins to peel himself out of his ruined clothes. The dragon was right, the water in the pond is warm, it must some sort of hot spring. The pond is smooth, too, the sides and bottom are worn so that no sharp edges poke into his feet. The water comes just above his nipples.

He's sliding into the water just as Dean comes back with an armload of soaps and salts and various ladies' bath things. He sets them at the side of the pond and then sits down to watch Castiel.

“Uh,” Says Castiel, “Are you just going to... sit there?”

“Yes.” Dean says cheerfully.

It's disconcerting, but Dean seems mostly harmless, so Castiel picks out some of the soap and sets to washing himself. He keeps close the wall, with as much of his body out of eyesight as possible. Despite the strange circumstance, it's a surprisingly nice bath. The water is clean and warm, a rarity back in town, the soap smells nice, and soon he's become surprisingly relaxed. By the time he's done he's cleaner than he has been in probably years, and in a better mood too. 

He drifts over to the side where Dean sits and smiles up at him, earning him a look of pure happiness from the dragon. 

“Do you have something I could dry off with?” He wonders, “Or... something to wear? My clothes are...”

“Unsuitable.” Dean agrees, “I'll find you something.” 

He's gone again in a flash, and Castiel is content to drift aimlessly in the warm water until he comes back with an armload of cloth. Looking at them, Castiel spots an immediate problem. 

“Ah... they're, um.”

“Only the loveliest, for you.”

“Oh, dear, thank you. It's just, they're... woman’s... aren’t they?”

Dean either doesn't understand or doesn't care, but instead picks up a rather small bit of blue clothing and holds it up. “To match your eyes,” He says happily, “Try it!”

“It's... small.”

“So are you.” Dean points out.

“I'm not _that_ small.”

The dragon's face falls into a pout, and Castiel finds himself sighing, “I'll try it. But you have to go somewhere else while I dress.”

Dean looks confused, “Why?”

“I'd just rather no one see me naked.”

“Naked?”

“Um, with no clothes on.”

“ _I_ don't have any clothes on.”

“I'm very aware of that, thank you.” He's been pointedly not looking at Dean's exposed cock this _entire_ time, and the effort is beginning to give him a headache. 

Dean just stares at him, and Castiel wonders if he  _really_ doesn't understand. How long has it been since he's been around humans?

“At least turn around.” Castiel says firmly, he won't budge on this. 

Finally, Dean does, although he keeps tipping his head back toward the pool.

“Eyes forward.” Castiel tells him, leveraging himself out of the pool. Water runs down his chest and legs to feed the moss under his feet. 

The small blue garment lies just a little ways away, but he feels so exposed as he walks the few feet to it. The fabric of it is light and thin, made of cotton, a pale blue. It has no arms to speak of, but lace at the hem. He slips it over his head, and finds that it falls about mid-thigh, further than he'd thought it would, and it's not as tight as he'd worried. It sticks to his wet skin, but he soon finds that he enjoys the freedom it gives his legs.

“Can I look now?” Dean wonders.

“I suppose.”

Dean leaps to his feet, elated, at the sight of him. “What a beautiful gem!” He declares, reaching out to run his clawed fingers gently down Castiel's side, “Lovely, lovely gem.”

“Uh,”

“What else?” Dean says thoughtfully, more to himself than Castiel, “Come! Let's look through my treasures!” 

There's a part of Castiel that wants to say no, because it's odd that he's letting himself be dressed up and doted on by a dragon. However, there's a much larger part of him that's subtly preening under the attention, however little he likes to admit it. He's clean, and he smells good. He's just had a very nice bath and, yes, he's wearing a woman's nightie, but it's fairly soft and he doesn't mind it as much as he thought he would. There's a dragon, a  _dragon_ , who keeps calling him lovely and trying to give him things. A dragon with an entire cavern full of treasure thinks  _Castiel_ is lovely. It's flattering, he admits to himself, he's never had this kind of attention before. In the village, everyone had thought him odd. He's never been the recipient of any kind of affections. 

“Here!” Says Dean, as they stop in front of an enormous cabinet. He's opening drawers and doors and rummaging through what looks to be a fortune in jewelry. 

A circlet is found, a delicate thing made of thin silver chain and dangling sapphires. Dean sets it gently on Castiel's head and then looks so happy that Castiel hasn't the heart to stop him as he rummages through the rest. 

A bracelet, diamonds and sapphires arranged to look like flowers, is slipped onto his delicate wrist. A necklace dripping with tear-shaped sapphires, and another with one sapphire as big as a small fist. Rings of silver and pearl. Castiel is laden with jewels, but he feels lighter than ever. Dean clutches his hands to his heart, and drags Castiel to an enormous mirror that stands nearby. 

When he sees himself, Castiel's heart nearly stops. He looks... beautiful, ethereal. He might look like a fairy-tale princess, weren't for the purple bruise on his cheek. 

Dean steps up beside him and, with his own blue scales, they look like a matching set. The dragon's nails are on Castiel's throat then, and his jaw. He's making some sort of rumbling sound in his chest that sounds suspiciously like purring. 

He's capturing Castiel's hands then, and bringing them to his mouth to press kisses over the backs of them, to his palms, his wrists. Dean is rumbling and humming happily and Castiel is having a terribly hard time breathing suddenly, overcome with gratitude and an unfamiliar want that grows in his stomach. 

A very faint growling from Castiel's stomach has Dean straightening up and looking worried. “You're hungry!” He realizes, “Of course! We'll eat! What do you like?”

“Oh, well, I’m not picky.” Castiel says, feeling a little shy. 

This, of course, is a mistake.

 

A storeroom sits off to one side of the cavern, dug out of the stone. It's cooler than the rest of the place, and it holds a magnitude of food. Where in the world Dean got these things, cakes and breads and meats and rice, Castiel has no idea. Perhaps he goes shopping in human form? If he were to wear a cloak he might be able to disguise his nature. 

Dean has Castiel sit at a great stone table near the wall as he brings out what seems to be the entire contents of the storeroom. Great slabs of dried meat and fish, breads with herbs and breads with onions, wheels of cheese, pastries of all shapes and forms. Dean brings things out until Castiel begs him to stop.

Dean sits quite near him and watches him eat, suggesting things and offering him others to try. He plies Castiel with food until the boy is fit to burst. He finds himself pliant and happy, opening his mouth easily when Dean offers him a bit of sweetened cream on his finger. 

Satisfaction makes Castiel bold, and he sucks Dean's finger into his mouth, lapping at the pad of it and humming at the sweet taste. Dean's eyes are locked on Castiel's mouth, pupils dilating rapidly. He pulls his hand back slowly and then, strangely, he's quiet. He's quiet as he puts the remaining food away, as he shows Castiel to a roaring fireplace that sits in a hollow in the cavern wall. 

Castiel catches Dean's gaze lingering on the hem of his dress, on the sapphires that drip over his barely-covered chest. He watches Dean's fingers twitch when they're in close proximity, and a warm, powerful sort of feeling unfurls in Castiel's chest. 

It lingers there as Dean shows him around the hoard, his piles of glass figurines and stacks of books. Interest piqued, Castiel inspects the books, aware of the way the bottom of his dress hikes up as he bends and plucks a book from the stack. He turns, and is surprised to find the dragon staring at the ground, a flush on his cheeks.

“Will you read to me?” Castiel asks.

“I will.” Says Dean.

Some of the dragon's confidence comes back as they drag furs into a pile by the fire, he chatters on about things he's collected as they shape the pile into a giant nest. He settles into it, and Castiel nestles up beside him, pressed boldly against him from ankle to shoulder. His bare thigh is against Dean's, and he can feel his smooth scales and warm skin. 

Dean's reading is distracted at first, as is Castiel's listening, but soon they're both immersed in the story. Castiel is lost in the calm rumble of Dean's voice. He doesn't realize he's even fallen asleep until he's jolted suddenly awake by Dean's movement. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel wonders, stifling a yawn. 

Dean, who has sat up, smiles down at him. He reaches up into the air and snaps his fingers, and the oil lamps all around the cavern dim until the whole place is bathed in a calming half-light. 

“Magic?” Castiel wonders.

“Yes,” Says Dean, “You don't seem surprised.”

“I dabble a little.” Castiel explains, wiggling his toes in the softness of the furs, “It's what got me arrested in the first place.”

Dean looks suitably disturbed by this, “What an incredibly stupid notion. To sacrifice a magic user  _to_ a magic user, for using magic.”

“In the hopes that it might magically make their crops grow.” Castiel ads. 

“Incredible.” Dean shakes his head, “What can you do?”

“Not much.” Castiel admits, “I can do this,” He holds up his hand and, after a moment, a small flame dances in his palm, “And I can charm birds.”

Dean settles back beside him, turned toward him a bit, he looks eager. “You're full of surprises.”

“Not so many.”

“I have something for you.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn't think you'd let me put it on, earlier.”

“What is it?” Castiel wonders, intrigued now. 

Dean turns away and, from somewhere beneath the furs, pulls another bracelet. Castiel frowns, confused, until Dean's fingers find his foot. It's an anklet, Castiel realizes suddenly, and Dean wants to put it on him. 

He leans back and lifts his foot delicately into the air. Dean's hand on his ankle is unexpectedly intimate, sliding the jewelry up over the sensitive bones of his foot. It fits perfectly, just there above his heel, but Dean's hand continues up until it rests on his exposed calf.

Their eyes meet and, in a moment, something passes between them. Something has been building in the air since Castiel first got here, and he's loathe to let the feeling dissipate now. He wants this, he wants to  _feel_ . It's been so long since anyone has payed him any kind of attention, and never of this kind. 

He wets his lips and takes a breath, and parts his legs.

Dean's eyes fall first to Castiel's thighs, to the expanse of pale skin barely covered by his slip of blue fabric. His hand continues up, nails scratching the soft skin teasingly, until it reaches the hem. Dean looks like he wants to keep going, but he hesitates. His eyes are cautious when they meet Castiel's again. 

“You can touch.” Castiel tells him. 

Dean's eyes close for just a moment, and between his legs Castiel can see Dean beginning to harden. He opens his eyes again, and leans forward to kiss Castiel very lightly on the lips.

“I can touch?”

Castiel spreads his legs wider, so that he has one on each side of Dean, he bites his bottom lip.

Dean surges forward, capturing Castiel's mouth in a much more passionate kiss than he'd been expecting, Dean's hands on the side of his head, forked tongue wriggling into Castiel's mouth. 

This kiss lights something inside of Castiel, the dry kindling that quickly becomes a burning, roaring fire as he pulls Dean closer, lets himself relax and be ravished by sharp nails and a mouth that burns. He gasps at Dean's lips on his neck, arches his back as the dragon pushes his dress up to his hips, exposing his half-hard cock to the room.

Dean looks down between them, and a grin grows on his lips. “Pretty.” He rumbles. 

His sharp nails teasing Castiel's nipples are somehow horrible and wonderful both at once, the act has him squirming to get away, but also hardening completely. Dean's mouth is everywhere, at Castiel neck, at his chest, on his hips. He presses lazy kisses down the side of Castiel's cock and licks lovingly at his balls. The real shock comes when he pushes Castiel's knees up and starts lapping at his hole.

“What are you doing?!” Castiel yelps, trying to sit up, unable because his own legs are blocking the way.

“Shh, little gem.” Dean says, “You'll like this.” He plunges his tongue inside. 

The wail Castiel makes upon Dean's entry would be embarrassing if anyone else heard it, but they're alone and Castiel can make as much noise as he wants. Castiel grabs at Dean's hair, gripping it tight to keep him there, to keep him doing this. 

“Yes,” Castiel gasps, “ _Please_.”

Dean complies happily, working him open with his long tongue and then, soon afterward, a finger. 

In the past, Castiel's fantasies – and there were many – were mainly populated by various faceless, muscled men who would bend him over and take him roughly; this is nothing like that, but a much purer and more enjoyable experience altogether. Dean is gentle and thorough. Sometimes he's confident, but just as often he's sweet and even a bit timid. He seems to delight it bringing Castiel pleasure, in swallowing his cock, in making sure he feels no pain when Dean presses his bulbous cockhead to his mate's wet hole. 

He works his cock into Castiel slowly, a man with no rush in particular, and through it he kisses Castiel's neck and plays with his already sore nipples. 

Fully seated, he fills Castiel in a way the boy never thought to be filled, pressing against every bit of him. They stay still for several long moments, and then Dean begins to move. He rocks slowly in and out, building in pace until he's fucking Castiel fast and hard, with a hand between them tugging on Castiel's smaller member. 

Castiel comes first, gasping in surprise as his entire body feels electrified for a moment. He goes limp, and Dean doesn't stop fucking into him until he's come as well, spilling his seed inside.

With his fingers, he presses his escaping semen back into Castiel's hole, rumbling in satisfaction. He licks firmly over Castiel's nipple, and is rewarded with an overstimulated whine. 

Dean cleans them up, washing the young man's soft cock and soiled stomach with a wet cloth and them pulling him close among the furs. 

“Stay with me, my treasure,” Dean requests, “And we'll have a thousand nights like this. I'll dress you in the finest silks and jewels, you'll have feasts every night. I will teach you magic and we'll partake of each other's bodies.”

Castiel snuggles happily into the warm furs and the rumbling dragon, feeling sated and content. He could get used to this. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dean has kind of a thing for seeing Castiel in sapphires and silver, and so do I
> 
>  
> 
> [a look at castiel's new wardrobe](https://www.pinterest.com/hereisatinypota/se/)
> 
>  
> 
> [come talk to me about dragons on tumblr](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/)


End file.
